Chapter 6 The Dominos Fall
Chapter 6.1 The Praetorian's Dilemma
Rogal Dorn rubbed his temples with his right hand, trying to massage away the frustration which had been building for days. When Malcador had come forward telling him that he might need to commit his Legion to the Imperial Dungeons, the Praetorian of Terra had thought the Sigillite had been making a jest.
This had not been the case.
He had allowed a pair of companies to be released for the Regent's needs, the minimum Malcador would accept, but he knew it was only time before the Sigillite would demand more.
That was the least of his problems however. Stories of brothers and Legions turning traitor here, there and everywhere were grating at his sanity. He had understood when Leman Russ had been tasked with hunting down Konrad Curze for attacking Warmaster Sanguinius. Konrad was always unstable, and the Praetorian had predicted it would only be a matter of time before the insane Night Haunter would need to be brought to heel.
But now he had stories of Magnus defying the Emperor and causing havoc in the Imperial Dungeons. He had stories of the Sixteenth Legion, the Sons of Horus, defying the Warmaster and devasting both the Emperor's Children and the Sons of Sanguinius. He had stories of the White Scars chasing the Pride of the Emperor, Fulgrim's command ship, to the outer edges of the Solar System. At least 3 brothers and around 4 Legions had seemingly lost their minds.
What made the situation ever more difficult to grasp was the collection of aliens joining the Praetorian and his other guests around the table situated on Terra.
Aeldari, commonly known as Eldar, were not exactly welcome within Imperium controlled space, yet these few had not only entered the Solar System, they had saved Fulgrim from the clutches of Jaghatai and his madness. Fulgrim had been most insistent that they be a least given leave to attend a conference on the Imperial Capitol World. Right now their ships high in orbit were being watched closely as their representatives sat here before Rogal.
One thing that some how seemed to make a bizarre kind of sense to Rogal was the appearance of Alpharius. The Primarch of the Alpha Legion seemed to always be tied up with something subversive. Fortunately for Fulgrim though, he had been in the right place at the right time to save the Primarch of the Emperor's Children.
Rogal had no love for Alpharius, his frustratingly opaque operations and underhanded tactics clearly showing a mind that was dishonourable and suspect. But, Rogal as a beggar could not be choosey about who was here to aid in the defense of Terra. He would simply have to make do with what he had.
Before him now sat an odd collection of figures. To his left sat Malcador, Regent of Terra, one of the only baseline humans in the room. If he was still a baseline human. Rogal still could not say for certain exactly what Malcador was except… well… Malcador. His psychic powers were far beyond any ordinary human, and his longevity Rogal suspected was a result of his association with the Emperor of Mankind. Regardless, he was the closest thing to having his Father actually present, so Rogal was more than happy to keep the Sigillite close.
Next were his brothers, Fulgrim and Alpharius. Alpharius was alone, his Legion being elsewhere. Rogal had interrogated Alpharius as to the location of his Legion but the Primarch of the Alpha Legion remained typically cryptic. This frustrated Rogal as he needed more Astartes if Malcador was going to keep making demands.
Fulgrim was also of no help. The Emperor's Children had been reduced to a few hundred that arrived with their Primarch aboard the Pride of the Emperor, with a good many of them wounded in the medicae. A handful of bodyguards had accompanied Fulgrim to this meeting, along with his Chief Apothecary Fabius for reasons Rogal couldn't even begin to grasp. He knew Fulgrim and Malcador had held a meeting before the conference, but as to the nature of the discussion Rogal was still in the dark. Regardless, the Emperor's Children couldn't even field a unified company, let alone relieve the burden on the Imperial Fists.
Then there were the oddities. A cluster of Sons of Horus and Sons of Sanguinius that had come with Fulgrim. Their testimony, along with that of the Remebrancers aboard the Pride of the Emperor helped paint a fuller picture for Rogal. Despite this though, there was still a lot of gaps. What happened to Sanguinius, and where was he now? What cause the Sixteenth to turn? They had no answers and this frustrated Dorn.
On top of the stray Astartes were the most odd of guests. First was another apparently baseline human, apparently also a psyker. This 'John Grammaticus' seemed to be a favourite of Alpharius, so he had been permitted to attend. The rest however were not so ordinary looking.
Several Aeldari, and a handful of other aliens of various minor breeds filled out the rest of the table. His sons in the Imperial Fists stood guard over the room, but it was clear that any attempt at aggression on the part of the aliens would be crushed, horribly, and without much effort.
Rogal had no worry of them, however. If they meant to cause trouble this would be the worst way of attempting it.
"How soon can we expect an attack on Terra?" asked Rogal, directing his question to Fulgrim and Alpharius.
"I'm not sure," replied Fulgrim, "Jaghatai's Legion seems even more uncoordinated than usual. Only a handful of his ships chased me to Terra. I think the rest were back at Istvaan, plundering what remains of my sons…"
The Primarch of the Third Legion fell into silence. Tarik, Sejanus and Victus looked at each other nervously. After an awkward pause, Alpharius picked up the question.
"I think it unlikely you will see much in the way of activity for a time," said Omegon, "They will need to consolidate their forces, and the Solar defenses are very strong. Even without Mars it would be a bloody battle to bring their forces all the way to Terra. I do not think they will strike until they are confident of total victory. We shouldn't expect less than 4 Legions worth of forces when they do eventually arrive."
"From below or above?" muttered Rogal, following up his comment with another question, "Whom can we trust to call upon to aid us here on Terra? I know three brothers have turned from the Emperor's light. Magnus, Jaghatai and the Sixteenth are in open conflict. Konrad might well be a danger to us. Do we know of any others that might be a threat, or those we can know we can rely upon? I'm sure Leman would be a valuable asset right now…"
"We can trust in Mortarion, with some certainty," replied Omegon, "But Lorgar should be viewed with some suspicion. There is a high probability he has turned against us."
"We have a... prediction model," explained John Grammaticus, "Its not perfect but it predicted Eight sons that would fall. Of them beyond Magnus and Jaghatai that you have confirmed, Lorgar is very high. Mortarion and Russ however are the most probable to stand with us."
"This smacks of Nikaea," grumbled the Praetorian, "Especially of what you have told me, Malcador."
"That would be a fair assessment," replied the Regent, "Magnus still holds a grudge regarding his punishment at Nikaea. Lorgar was punished with Monarchia. Jaghatai also saw his Legion's traditions curtailed under the Edicts of Nikaea. And Mortarion was one of the strongest voices against psykers during the Council. I do not think any of this is a coincidence. I sense the hand of malicious forces in this matter."
"There was one other voice prominent voice during the Council," pointed out Omegon, "…The Warmaster."
The room was silent for a moment, then Fulgrim spoke up, his voice still rather shallow.
"The Ninth had taken damage from the Sixteenth. If the Warmaster was leading this operation why would he damage his own forces?"
"To purge his Legion of loyalists?" answered Omegon, very directly.
"Alpharius, whilst it is something you and others might do with their Legions, this is NOT something Sanguinius would do," replied Rogal curtly, "I know my brother better than you, and I can speak with absolute confidence that this is not an order he would issue."
"Very true," agreed Fulgrim, still with little energy, "The Warmaster is ruthless when necessary, but he is not cold or callous. He would always face a man in open battle, face to face, not resort to shadow play to remove obstacles. The evidence that the Red Tear was seized by Sixteenth Legion forces is significant. Whilst I could not confirm the Warmaster's presence aboard his command ship these would be odd actions for one to take. To side with Horus' sons to kill his own. I do not think the Warmaster would do this. It is not in his character."
"I cannot say what is transpiring," said Rogal, rubbing his temples once more, "But I cannot believe Sanguinius would be behind any of this. He is Warmaster. He is perhaps the greatest and noblest of us all. His loyalty is second only to perhaps Leman Russ. I would sooner believe Roboute was creating his own Imperium than Sanguinius ever betraying our Father."
"I also know Ferrus will stand with us," said Fulgrim with some new found confidence, "I would trust him with my life and the entire Imperium. He was on his way to assist me when Jaghatai's forces ambushed my Legion."
"Ferrus can be rough, but I agree his loyalty should not be in question," nodded Rogal, "It has become increasing difficult to send messages via astropath in recent times due to these warp storms, but we shall continue to signal all Legions who have not actively turned against us for aid."
"I suspect this is no concidence," said Malcador, gravely, "These storms are not a natural phenomenon. I suspect our enemy is trying to enclose us and cut us off from the wider Imperium. Even this Civil War on Mars cannot be a random act of chance. The rivals factions should have fallen by now. I suspect they have help from these traitor elements, and perhaps have so since the beginning. It has been a distraction from our true vulnerability. If the enemy plans to attack us from our weakest point inside the Imperial Palace… we may not get aid in time to hold them beyond what we have within the system."
"Aid is something we can provide," said Eldrad, speaking at last, "I doubt many in this room will know of me, but I once knew your Emperor. Whilst the term 'friend' might be a bit strong, we were allies of a sort in this very war we fight today. We have many warriors from a variety of worlds, many of them gifted psykers. We may not have the numbers you need, but we can be of use, if you are willing to treat with us. "
"Psykers are something we do very much need," replied Malcador, nodding, "Tell me, Eldrad, how willing are your forces to sacrifice their lives to prevent catastrophe?"
"With the Cabal effectively dissolved, if this is the front line in the battle against Chaos, you can be sure we will do whatever is necessary to prevent its victory," said Eldrad, a series of nods accompanying his words from his companions.
"I will take you up on that," said Malcador, and Eldrad could sense something almost sinister in those words.
"Your efforts are appreciated, Eldrad," said Rogal gruffly, "Whilst I never expected to treat with Aeldari your assistance in bringing Fulgrim to us in one piece is something I will be forever grateful for."
"As am I," said Fulgrim graciously.
"I hope this will help you see my people in a better light, Praetorian Dorn, Lord Regent of Terra," replied Eldrad, "For too long the Imperium has sought to dominate the galaxy alone, crushing lesser dominions beneath the boots of the Astartes and the War Machines of your Forge Worlds. We do not ask for a seat in your Imperium, or to even to be considered equals of your galactic domination. All that we ask is to be left alone, in peace."
"It is far too dangerous to leave regions of the galaxy outside of our control," said Malcador, gravely, "Without our oversight the forces of Chaos might grow beyond our ability to manage. The Imperium was designed to be the greatest weapon against Chaos."
"And how well has that worked out for you, Lord Regent?" retorted Eldrad, "Your Master remains trapped in the dungeons below, using all his might to prevent yet another rift in the veil between the Warp and Real Space. Even if a million psykers on a thousand worlds collaborated they could not produce a threat as large as this."
"Careful, Aeldari…" growled Malcador, an edge of malice creeping into his voice, "Your people created the Fourth of the Chaos Pantheon in your gluttonous greed. Remember you sit here by our gratitude, but that gratitude has limits if you continue to insult us."
"Do you wish me to list the number of our worlds and craftworlds you have burned, Terran?" accused Eldrad, his voice getting louder, "Or do you wish me to highlight that had your Master agreed to work with us none of this would have occurred? We have done more to halt the advance of Chaos than any other collective in the galaxy following our mistakes, yet you seem set on repeating our failures in your stubbornness that you know better. Which, it is plainly obvious by this situation, you do not as you are mere moments away of replicating our downfall in its entirety!"
Crackles of psychic energy lunged out from Malcador's outstretched hand, sparking towards the son of Ulthwe sat across from him. Eldrad raise his own, catching the energies and dispelling the attack with a mixture of rage and distain. John cringed as the forces of the Imperium and Aeldari stared down each other from across the table.
"MALCADOR!" roared Rogal slamming his fist upon the table, "HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO DEFEND TERRA WHEN YOU INSIST ON MAKING US EVEN MORE ENEMIES?!"
"Eldrad, let us focus on problem solving rather than petty bickering," said Omegon quietly to the Aeldari, "The Regent has his pride, but provoking him will gain us nothing. Please turn a blind eye once more to any indiscretions in the name of victory against Chaos."
"Of course," said Eldrad, nodding, "Forgive my words, Lord Regent, Chaos is the issue at hand. Regardless of what has occurred before, we must solve the problem together."
"I cannot disagree with that, Eldrad," replied Malcador, his gracious calm resuming once more, "Believe me when I say had things been different the Imperium would have been the weapon to destroy Chaos for good. What was done, for good or ill, was done in the name of ending the Chaos threat."
"As was the Cabal," said Eldrad, sorrow creeping into his voice, "I spoke against their more extreme actions. I told them to disavow the renegades when they murdered your Lord Horus. We are here because despite all our efforts, we have been thwarted by the machinations of the evil we seek to combat. There are no coincidences that events outside our control brought down what we sought to build. The lesson that can be learned here is to avoid overly elaborate plans, and to be flexible enough to adapt to circumstance."
"And we still have plans," said Malcador, sketching a symbol with his finger onto the table, idly, "This is not the future we desired, but we have plans upon plans that can still bring us victory. But for them to stand a chance we require time. My Master will need psychic reinforcement to hold back the forces of Chaos for long enough for us to find a solution to the Nikaean Rebellion and restore what has been damaged."
"And we shall provide whatever psychic might we can," said Eldrad, with agreement from his nonhuman followers once more.
"Regardless, even the most powerful psykers will not be enough if the danger in the Imperial Dungeon is as great as you claim, Malcador," continued Rogal, "Foot soldiers will be as important as psykers if my brothers' Legions are able to use this secret path to reach Terra as you say. If my Legion will not be sufficient we should make preparations for evacuating the Emperor from Terra as necessary. I have ordered the Phalanx to be brought into position to prepare for such an eventuality. Hopefully with my Legion, our Aeldari allies and three Primarchs we can buy enough time for additional forces to arrive on Terra."
"I'm afraid it will be two Primarchs, Rogal," replied Fulgrim, "I will be departing soon to return to Chemos."
"WHAT?" roared Rogal once more, "Fulgrim! I NEED you HERE! I have a single Legion to fight against Four or More! Do NOT abandon me NOW!"
"And what am I to fight with, Rogal. My bare FISTS?" retorted Fulgrim, "I. HAVE. NO. LEGION! I am useless as I am now. I have fortunately been granted the resources I need to rebuild my Legion, thanks to the grace of Malcador and our Father. I will return, I promise you, and when I do I shall be leading the finest Legion in the Imperium. But I cannot stay, this needs to be done. I am sorry."
"Well, if you bring me an additional Legion swiftly then perhaps something can be salvaged from your departure," grunted Rogal, "But I need bodies, not just promises."
"It will be MORE than just an additional Legion," said Fulgrim with force, "My new warriors will be an improvement on the standard Astartes template. My Chief Apothecary Fabius has been given the tools necessary to develop the next generation of warrior for the Imperium. Regardless as to how many brothers we face, we loyalists will be able to field a new superior combat unit which will make our victory inevitable. Isn't that right, Chief Apothecary?"
"Indeed, My Lord," rasped Fabius, "Access to the… resources… I have been given will allow me to experiment with the base pattern to make a warrior that is stronger, and more resilient than a standard pattern Astartes. Higher survival rates for initiates is also something I am tinkering with. Faster replenishment of our front line units will mean we can ensure numeric superiority within a few generations of our new breed of warrior. They will also be able to fight to a greater degree without the STC armour templates, since I fear we may not have enough to replenish our Legion before they are needed on the battle field."
"Impressive," said Dorn, his scowl not moving one inch.
"Also, thanks to the assistance of the Lord Regent I have begun a program to develop weapons capable of defeat these 'Neverborn', including manipulation of the Pariah Gene. The Lord Geneticist Ezekiel Sedayne of the Biotechnical Division will be accompanying us back to Chemos to assist in the work, and my discussions with him have already proved most fruitful. His work on mind transference and melding is very intriguing, if perhaps a bit crude in my opinion. But I digress…"
"King of Feathers," voice whispered in Fabius' ear, "I want you to know I am proud of you on your new path."
Fabius turned in his seat to see the source of the voice, but behind him was nothing but bare wall. Confusion riddled the face of the warped old man. That voice… it wasn't human. It spoke High Gothic but it was closer to Eldrad's accent than any human one. John simply watched as a lithe figure danced unnoticed out of the room. He thought it best not to complicate things by speaking up.
"Are you alright Fabius?" asked Fulgrim, a note of concern in his voice for one of his few surviving sons.
"It is nothing, My Lord," replied Fabius, turning back, "Just a strange draft that caught my attention. But in summation, whilst the battle for Terra will doubtless be hard fought, the Nikaean Rebels cannot win. Our new warriors will flood the galaxy and bring an end to any treasonous forces that might endure. The best our enemies can hope for is a pyrrhic victory. Of this I can guarantee."
"If your new breed of Astartes are as good as you claim, Chief Apothecary," said Rogal, "You will be honoured as the Saviour of the Imperium. But for now I still must hold Terra. Fulgrim, depart as soon as you may and bring me more warriors as soon as can be. If you encounter any of our brothers ensure they get here sooner. I will need whatever I can obtain to hold the line. We cannot afford to send much additional force to Mars but we cannot allow it to fall either. My Legion will have to do the work of three until you return."
"I will, brother," promised Fulgrim.
"For now," concluded Dorn, "I will need to decide where best to task myself and my forces. I will need to split my time between commanding the forces within the Imperial Dungeon and also here on the surface should we see an invasion from beyond the Solar system."
"Brother," said Omegon, cautiously, "You are Lord Praetorian. Your place is here, commanding the strategic overview. I shall go into the Imperial Dungeons and command our forces in the defense below."
"Out of the question," refused Dorn, "My sons are going to be committed to a field I know little of against enemies that are beyond description according to Malcador. I will not send them blindly into the darkness. I will stand with them. How else can I form tactics and strategies to defeat these enemies lest I see them myself?"
"I am aware of these enemies," replied Omegon, "Probably better than you, brother. Let me lead the forces into the dark whilst you keep safe the world of light above."
"You expect me to put my sons' lives in your hands, Alpharius?" accused Rogal, "My sons are not to be spent like a drunkard following a night at the local tavern."
"Rogal…" said Malcador reproachfully, "Your brother has talents which are different than yours. You are the bulwark, the wall that shields the Imperium. Alpharius is the whisper in the dark that ensures the wall is never reached. He is the one we need right now, he can fight this battle better than any other present."
"And so I am just to hand over all command to him?" grumbled Rogal, "To give him unfettered control of my Legion?! My SONS?!"
"Brother…" said Omegon, "I swear, I shall bring as many of your sons back alive as I can. I will not sacrifice a single warrior that is not needed in the defense of our Father. This is all for his sake. We may not see eye to eye, but I hope you can agree that protecting our Father is worth all of our lives, even mine. If I fall defending Father in the Imperial Dungeons, it will be on you to ensure he escapes to safety."
Rogal paused, staring straight into his brother's eyes. A new understanding dawned on the Praetorian. By going in Dorn's place, Rogal could ensure that if things went wrong the Emperor could be evacuated as per his plan. Yes, his sons would be sacrificed, but so too might his brother. Alpharius was prepared to die in order to give Rogal the time he needed to win, or deprive the enemy of victory. It was a noble deed, cloaked as all things were with Alpharius.
"Very well," said Rogal finally, "Alpharius will take command of the Imperial Dungeons. I will reform Terra into the lines of defense we will need if the enemy comes from above. I will trust the safety of our Father to your care, Alpharius. And I will trust our future abilities to you, Fulgrim."
"I will not let you down, brother," said Omegon.
"Nor I," said Fulgrim.
"Then let us adjorn," said Rogal, "Lord Regent, I entrust Eldrad and his comrades to your care. I am sure you know best how to make use of them. Alpharius, the Imperial Dungeons are yours. Work with the Lord Regent to ensure I am giving accurate numbers as to your requirements. My forces are not limitless… but not let the enemy through as a result of parsimoniousness. Tell me what you need, and I will find ways to make it available. Fulgrim… finish your project and get back here as soon as possible. I can only hope through our combination of strengths we can whether the storm until help arrives…"